The Third Light
by AliceShe
Summary: Poirot thinks that the end of his career is drawing near but then a young lady comes to him with a baffling case of love,murder and lies
1. Chapter 1

It was a damp, cold day in late June. Hastings sat on the grey sofa in Poirot's study. No one had spoken for a long time, as if choosing the right words.

" So, the English criminals are having the little day off uh?" Poirot snapped at last, knocking down the house of cards he had been building. Hastings was just about to reply but Poirot spoke again " I am sure even the Chief Inspected Japp has more cases than Hercule Poirot!"

" I say." Hastings gasped, who was now standing by the window.

" mon ami, what could you possibly be interested in when Poirot is..."

" What a car... I wander who's it is."

" And this is your English weather at its best?" Poirot smiled, looking down and the people in the street with their umbrellas and thick raincoats.

" A miss Swate to see you." Miss Lemon announced suddenly.

" Ah, show her in miss Lemon." He replied. " Perhaps you are right and the car is of interest."

" Your saying its hers?"

" ce sa."

From the hallway you could hear miss lemon telling the visiter to " step this way. He is in his office." Standing in the doorway stood an elegant young lady, in her twentys, blonde hair streamed down her back, the black dress suited her completion. " I say..." Hastings said, suddenly feeling a little dazed. Poirot gave him a sharp look. " sorry," He blushed.

" you must be mr Poirot? An your Captain Hastings." Hastings was surprised that someone knew he was

"Yes, i am." He spluttered.

" mademoiselle, what has brought to Hecule Poirot?" He said smiling.

" well, I was just scared, terribly scared! What should I do when my oldest friend has been murdered?"

" murdered? Oh, mademoiselle, that is most terrible, please to sit."

Miss Swate sat down and started to cry. " why would anyone want to kill her, I don't understand!?"

" Do the police know of this?"

" well yes, but they think it was Suicide! I just don't understand anymore."

" with what was she killed, I assume it was a woman?" " yes, Grace. Killed with a bullet in the head, found on the garden path this morning. You can find me at my house Rose Gardens, Doormont house,"

" merci, this is a thing most terrible and I will do anything that I can solve it."

" thank you, I must go."

" Good Lord, what a stunner!" Captain Hastings gaped.

" I see you still have the hankering for the glamorous young ladies!" Poirot sniffed and smiled. Hastings smiled back. Poirot looked himself up and down, " is it straight?" He asked himself, as he looked at his moustache. " we are making the short journey" with that he collected his hat and stick and with one hand behind him he walked out of the flat and approached the lift. Hastings soon joined him.

" you never seem to tell me where we are going. I have no idea, most if the time."

" my dear Hastings, be patient mon ami." Poirot called for a taxi and told the driver where to go.

" Ah, we are going to see the young lady, we don't want to get you too excited no?"

END OF CHAPTER 1 to be continued...


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 Rose Gardens was a terrence of grand town houses a line of rose trees lined the street, a very unusual site. The smell in the air was sweet and refreshing, and this made Hastings even more dazed than he had already become since being told they were going to visit Miss Swate. Poirot tapped on the door with his stick and stepped backwards to look at the house.

" Who is It?" A older looking lady in dirty shabby apron uttered.

" Hercule Poirot."

" Are you foreign?" The woman grunted.

" I don't know what the worlds come to! With miss Grace going n dying and now this." Then she began to repeat slowly, pronouncing each word " Who... are... you?" As if he was stupid or couldn't understand.

" I am Hercule Poirot, the detective most great."

" your having a laugh, your no detective, go on scoot." She groaned looking him up and down.

" I do not intend to 'scoot' anywhere mademoiselle." He replied simply in a raised tone. " We have come to see Mademoiselle Swate..."

" Fancy seeing you here Poirot!" Came a voice from inside the house, which they both recognised instantly. " ah, chief inspector, how are you? And how is mrs Japp."

" I'm alright." He said, not sounding convinced and not answering the whole question. Poirot chose to ignore the answer and went on through to the living room. Hastings following closely behind, slightly feeling as if he was being ignored.

" Alright Captain Hastings?" Japp continued when they had entered the room.

" We'll as a matter of fact..." He was cut off by a shouting in the hall way, a lady was pleading for the woman in the apron to let her in, who was harshly protesting.

" This is my house and you should let me in." Miss Swate snapped.

" oh, miss Violet, didn't recognise you with all that dirt on your face." The Lady replied and stepped aside.

" are the detectives here? I do want to see them." She took off her blue satin gloves and asked the maid to fetch her something to wipe off the mud and rain which hid her face. Then she entered the living room. " I'm so sorry, I look a state," she said, embarrassed. " I fell over on the way back, sprained ankle, nothing serious."

" I would like to ask you some questions if you please." Poirot started.

" We have already asked questions Poirot," Japp stated, a little smug, but Poirot was quick to answer.

" But Poirot, he has questions of his own."

" How long had you known Mademoiselle Grace?"

" Oh, since we were children, at the seaside, she dropped her ice cream and I gave her mine. Weird really, thinking that all that is gone now. Then there was Jack, he lived across the road, I have known him since childhood too but not at the same time as Grace, I never played with Jack, we played separately by ourselves along side each other, never knew what the other was doing, why am I telling you this? Sorry, where was I, oh yes, Grace is not like unlike Marida Cray."

" comme?"

" Marida is Grace's sister, of course I tried to like her, but she always got in the way. I'm not very good at this I'm afraid Monsieur, but I will try as best I can."

" What do remember from the night of the death? Retrace your footsteps in your mind."

" I..I was in here at around 9:30 having some wine that Jack gave me, and I suppose I must of fallen asleep, I'm afraid don't remember anything after that, I didn't even awake when my maid at screamed around 11:15 in fact I never left the room, Alexander, Marida, Mr and Mrs Urnbridge, Hannah and Robert were playing cards, after giving me the drink Jack went out telling us he had typing to do, and then Alexander left, going to bed I suppose, and Robert went to talk to Jack at 9:50 and that left Marida, Hannah the Urnbridge's, they may be able to tell you something and Jack, I honestly can't remember after that."

" Merci mademoiselle, I will go and find this Jack, do you know of where I can find him?" " He lives straight opposite here , white door, number 12."

" Merci beucoup." Poirot thanked her and beckoned Hastings to come.

" Oh and Captain Hastings," Violet called back to him from the couch. " Stay safe."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Poirot walked quickly over to the house across the road, "I think this is the case most simple mon ami, then I believe it has not has not yet begun." He knocked on the door and waited, and waited.

" I don't think he is in," Hastings said helpfully.

" Or he is lazy?" He replied. The door opened and a lean young man, with straight chestnut hair and a winning grin appeared.

" Good morning gentlemen," He eyed then carefully and smiled sweetly.

" Hercule Poirot, and this is my associate...

" Captain Hastings," Hastings held out is hand.

" Jack Carrrington. What can I do for you?"

" I am sure you know of the unfortunate death of mademoiselle Grace Cray." Poirot questioned.

" Awful business." He answered. " And you haven't told me what you want yet."

" Ah, I am the worlds greatest detective."

" Is that so," He looked amused. " Well you better come in." He showed then into a small room leading off a narrow hallway, this house was not as grand as the other, lower ceilings, less space.

" Hang your coats here and come this way." He said pointing a set of hooks hanging on the far wall.

" Monsieur Carrington, how long had you known Mademoiselle Cray?"

"Oh only a few years, she was friends with Violet, I didn't really know her. I knew Marida better, she is an annoying child, always saying she loves me and looking offended when I tell her don't feel the same way. I can't tell them apart by looking at them but by character they are very different indeed."

" and where were you on the night of the crime?"

" I gave Violet a drink around 9:30 and then went back up to my room till 11:10, I was typing. Then I heard the awful scream and ran down to see what the matter was. And poor Grace lay there motionless, so much sorrow in her it broke me to see."

" Merci Monsieur Carrington. We must be on our way."

Next they went to find the Urnbridges who lived at number 18. Mrs Urnbridge was less than happy to be questioned...

" I refuse to answer questions from a little French man!" She said stubbornly walking over to the wall where she stood shouting.

" Not French, Belgium." He replied, it was regular mistake and he had grown accustom to correcting people. Mr Urnbridge sat down on the big wooden chair in the untidy dining room.

" Question me Mr Poirot, I have a good memory you see, I pride myself on it."

" Oui, so Monsieur how did the game go?"

" Well, I was dummy so I went out to have a cigarette, of course I was back in a minute to begin the game again. When I returned I saw that Violet had dosed off and the others were intently playing the game. I sat back down to start to play again and, won fair and square!"

" Bien, and did anyone leave the room at all?"

" First Jack went to go and do some typing, I heard him walk upstairs, I also know that Alexander went to bed, a little early considering he stays up late most nights, and of course Robert went too, I don't quite remember where..."

" To talk with Jack?" Poirot interrupted.

" Yes, yes it was."

Mrs Urnbridge still refused to talk to Poirot. " I will talk to the other man." She demanded.

" Well," Hastings began.

" Where you with your husband the whole night?"

" Yes, now please leave." She pointed to the door and the two of them left.


End file.
